Color of Innocence
by Zeff N Company
Summary: Prompt-based AU. Leon is twenty-five years old and stands as tall and proud as a comic book hero, but he can't think beyond the age of seven. Eventual Cleon; just because it's harder, doesn't make it impossible. Rated for language, so far.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm back. Again. Please bear with me, as all my writing now is done with my phone.

Prompt: "Powerful attraction + language barrier = ?"

* * *

 _I like you._

Three words. How ridiculous is it that they are so hard to say?

He watches as the tall broad man clomps around their small cramped living space noisily - he can't help it, his boots are heavy. His fingers work desperately over his pendent, scratching the smooth beveled lion head. He wonders if this is one of those times he should leave it, or step in.

The scratching continues, escalates. The fingers start jerking in the direction of the man's bare neck, and he goes for it.

"Leon," he calls sharply. The man's fingers freeze. Good. "Did you forget something?"

"... No," the man - Leon - mutters back with all the finesse of a toddler caught red-handed. He goes back to scratching.

Cloud sighs. They do this little merry-go-round every morning, every time. It should be easy.

It still isn't.

"Leon, if you can't tell me what's wrong, I won't be able to help you fix it. You know that."

At least, he hopes he does. There are days when something this logical doesn't quite slide in place, and he can only hope today is not one of those days.

The tall man shifts uneasily from one leg to the other. The scratching continues.

"Leon," he tries again, more sternly. The other sighs and gives in.

"I can't find Rain."

 _Ah._

Rain, at least, is something Cloud understands. Rain is a small lion doll with a sparse mane and brown acrylic eyes. Rain fits perfectly in Leon's pocket, and goes everywhere with him. Sometimes, Rain is the one thing in the world that keeps Leon calm.

He finds the little bedraggled lion under the bed, dropped or knocked there by a sleepily swiping hand the night before. He offers it, and Leon immediately stuffs the fuzzy thing down his pocket.

"Maybe you should give your toy a break, it could use a wash," Cloud says; _Let me help._

As usual, Leon doesn't understand him. He frowns and protests: "I need Rain... and he doesn't need washing."

"Lee, he sits in your sweaty pocket six days a week. He is smelly."

"He is not," the man insists stubbornly. There is a reason behind Leon's stubborness, Cloud knows that. He just doesn't understand it.

"Alright, but try not to drop him down the shaft or anything."

It's cruel of him to say that, and he notices perfectly well the sudden widening of pale gray eyes in irrationally scared panic. The hand immediately shoves the poor lion deeper into the pocket, before patting around for any possible holes.

He had hoped that it would be enough to convince the man to leave the precious toy at home.

 _Please trust me._ He hopes the other hears him.

He doesn't.

"I have to go now," Leon states, still looking a little flighty with his hand pressed firmly over his pocket.

"Okay then," Cloud relents. It takes two minutes of shuffling around before Leon finally steps out into the hallway, bag over his shoulder, keys chained to his belt.

It is so very ridiculous, how hard it is to say so few words.

Leon can't understand - he is literally incapable of the challenge against his mental capacities.

Cloud doesn't know what _his_ excuse is.

* * *

It's not exactly right to say the man is intellectually disabled (both men hate the word "retarded"), but there is little else to describe it. Leon is twenty-five years old and stands as tall and proud as a comic book hero, but he can't think beyond the age of seven. He usually gets away with it because he is quiet ("shy" sounds like a girly word) and always listens while barely saying anything.

But he gives himself away in the most absurd of things (their first meeting was the brunet curiously watching the blond take a piss in an alley). When he does talk, he is soft-spoken and struggles to use his words right. His speech is as simple as it gets, his knowledge on expression and figures of speech are simpler still.

But his eyes are clear and sharp, and when he stares those eyes burn with the intensity of fuel from an observant, thoughtful mind. And they catch everything, taking it all in with no hint of sluggishness, even if there is the slightest hint of frustrated confusion of how what he is seeing makes any sense.

It isn't exactly right - it isn't fair - to say he is disabled when those eyes clearly see the world with no less intelligence... they just see it all differently.

(And the brunet, bless his innocent heart, saw nothing wrong in letting a homeless blond stranger through his door and feeding him, on aforementioned stranger's offended demand that if he was taking his pants off, he'd need to be somewhere warmer.)

He nevertheless has his share of problems, and who could blame him, really, when his young mind was forced to handle an adult and largely perverse world? He is a nervous picker and habitually scratches (sleeves cover the map of scars down his arms), his pendent a secure "scratching helper" that, like the lion, never leaves his person (he has to scratch it instead of his skin because it makes Aerith sad to see any new marks).

He is usually wary of those he doesn't know, and he doesn't open up easily to others - not even with the bribery of his favorite sweets. According to his childhood best friend and most frequent caretaker, he just doesn't like meeting new people all that much.

It doesn't explain their first week, where Leon sat next to Cloud on his usual park bench, listening earnestly as the blond pointed out and commented on passersby. He had watched intently, nodding with a childlike desperation to prove he totally got whatever they were talking about. He didn't, of course, but it was always A for effort.

Leon accepts Cloud, he makes that clear. Of all the people in the world, he chose to have Cloud as his friend. It was irrational, it was naive - but it works for the both of them.

(And he always, at day's end, let Cloud back into his home - their home. He didn't assume he was staying, they just accepted Cloud was here.)

* * *

 _I like you._

Maybe it is so hard to say because he knows Leon won't understand what he is trying to tell him.

Leon likes him the way a boy likes a girl, with trinkets instead of confessions. He has a weird taste in what counts as giftworthy, but it doesn't stop him (Cloud has a box full of coat buttons, another full of can tabs, and the largest collection of orphaned keys known to Man).

 _I like you._ The quiet brunet says it in every shiny object that he offers Cloud with those hopeful wide gray eyes. He says it in every soft smile when Cloud thanks him and keeps the gift.

It is so hard to like him back.

He isn't entirely comfortable with hugs, and squirms away from even a chaste kiss. He refuses to touch hands where others can see, and he is confused by shoulder bumps and friendly punches.

("I like you," Cloud said to him once, as direct as he could get.

"I like you too," Leon answered with his small smile, hands busy with a brush and paint. "And I like Aerith, and Aerith likes me. Because we are friends, right?"

Cloud didn't try again.)

* * *

 _I like you._

 _Like my friend?_

 _More than that._

 _How much more?_

 _More than anything._

* * *

"Give me the fucking lion, Leon!"

"No!"

He is being difficult, really. The lion fell down the elevator shaft after all, and the poor thing is gray with dust and stinks of piss. Even now his master will not let go.

Cloud swipes at the toy as Leon tries to keep it out of reach. Cloud is frustrated, Leon is angry. Between them the lion sends dust flying all over the freshly dusted room.

"It's just taking a dumb _bath_ , okay?" Cloud growls. "Just one lousy night without it!"

"No!" Leon insists again.

"LEON!" Cloud loses his temper and snaps.

"NO!"

The lion's tail comes away in Cloud's hand, the seam ripping up and across the toy's back. Stuffing joins the dust and dirt.

Leon doesn't scream. He stares, face pale as a sheet. He does not breathe.

Cloud is still frustrated, and the guilt pushes it into fullblown anger.

"Happy now?" He shouts at the other, tugging the lion from his grip. "You're a grown man, not a fucking child! ACT LIKE ONE!"

"I hate you."

The door slams.

* * *

Leon doesn't come back. Cloud doesn't call Aerith to ask if he went to her.

Everything Cloud owns fits in a box.

Everything that Leon gave him is too heavy to take with him.

* * *

 _I like you._

 _I hate you._

 _No you don't._

 _You hurt me._

 _Yes I did._

 _You are mean._

 _I am sorry._

* * *

It takes Cloud two nights: one to wash, one to mend. He bears with Aerith's scoldings and several stabs to the fingers to get it done just right.

He leaves the lion at the foot of Leon's bed with a note.

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

He doesn't make it pass the front door.

Leon is out there, slumped by the wall and asleep between his knees.

 _Don't go._ His writing is a struggling scrawl on a torn sheet.

* * *

 _Stay with me. I need you._

 _I need you, too._

 _Why didn't you just say so?_

* * *

A/N: I have no real plan for where this is headed, but I'm interested in expanding. Go ahead and prompt me for future chapters - I'll check the reviews here and browse the Strifehart Kink Meme.

Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This was the prompt that got me started on the concept - except it took me longer and was harder to do because it was harder to get off its feet. Once I did a different prompt and got the gears going, this one just fell into place, and I knew what I wanted and how I wanted it.

So here it is.

Prompt: "Leon is an artist, and Cloud is homeless. Through a chance meeting, Leon agrees to let Cloud live with him, under the condition that he plays as Leon's model.

This includes, but is not limited to a shitton of nude art."

* * *

"See that? That guy over there with the girl. The school kids. See them, Leon?"

"Uh huh."

"Watch the guy - he's about to show us the proper way to treat a lady."

And that was how she found them: they sat on the park bench side by side, as close as brothers but one so different from the other. The blond sat upright, relaxed against the back of the bench and pointing out across the street carelessly, ignorant or plain uncaring that such a gesture was visible, obvious, rude. He just did it because he felt like it. The brunet was hunched forward, hands on his knees, and he followed the finger's direction to stare with open, unguarded attention.

"See right there?" the blond continued freely, as the unknowing actors played their scene. "Flowers and candy. They sell 'em at the store for most of your lunch money and then some, cos' nothing says 'I love you' like an empty stomach. Right?"

The brunet nodded. "Uh huh."

Across the street, the girl cooed appreciatively over the gifts, her fingers fondly stroking petals. She looked up, eyes soft and longing, and she opened her mouth to speak.

And then her boyfriend pulled out his phone and started texting.

"Ooooh, bad move," the blond chortled. "No second date for him."

The girl huffed and smacked the flowers over the oblivious boy's head before stomping off.

"Uh oh," the brunet mused softly. The blond hummed.

"Not a total loss - she kept the candy."

"Why?"

The blond shrugged. "She likes him, she likes cheap chocolate. Who knows? That's just young love."

The brunet held a countenance of confusion, but slowly nodded in acceptance. "... Okay."

She took another moment to watch the strange pair, as the finger pointed out something else for the other to watch and learn from. The blond wore a faded t-shirt with a chocobo printed on the front, and on top of it was a worn blue button-up missing the front pocket. His cargo pants were worn at the knees, and his pockets bulged with whatever he deemed fit to carry at once. The brunet was in clean, pressed navy overalls, sleeves all the way down and gloves held in a tight grip. He wore his cap backwards, but the way his hair was mussed showed that someone had turned it that way for him. His gray eyes were wide and curious, beholding wonder and confusion. His friend's bright blues were brittle and hardened, having seen it all and no longer caring for it.

They looked like brothers, an older and a younger. They looked like best buddies, one freelancing and the other stuck dead-end. They looked like a squire and a knave, one still with dreams and another having lost everything because of them. And their eyes saw the same thing in different tinted lenses.

One old, one young. Both were smiling as they sat there, together.

It was then she decided to get their attention, and called out with a wave. The brunet saw her first, and tugging at the other's sleeve pointed her out. He had already seen her, but the blond patiently acknowledge the gesture and waved her over.

"Hi there," he greeted when she was close enough. "Tifa, right?"

"That's me," she answered. "Got room for one more."

"Hop aboard."

And the two men slid apart. As she sat in between them, the brunet slowly straightened to his proper height. He aged before her eyes, no longer the lost and curious little boy she watched a few minutes ago, but a tall and proud young man who now held a few inches above his companion and herself. His smile was small and timid, but he held his gaze with an air of calmness and extended his hand like a gentleman.

"Hello," he greeted politely. "My name is Leon."

"Hello, Leon," she returned the greeting, shaking a strong, firm hand.

The blond smiled in approval, and then took his turn to shake her hand under the other's expectant gaze. His was lighter, more feathery as one who did not wish to commit, but firm nevertheless. "And I'm Cloud. I take it Aerith told you about us?"

"She did - it's why I wanted to meet you," she replied. "If it's okay, this is going into my human geography project, so it might get published. Just as a case study, so you can keep anonymity."

"Sounds good." And then Cloud looked over her and at Leon. "You say something if you don't understand, okay? You get to answer some questions too."

Leon nodded, and a small glint of nervousness flashed in his eyes.

"So," Cloud asked, much more relaxed in his stance but with guarded eyes of his own, "what can we tell you?"

"Well... How did you two meet?"

Cloud promptly burst out laughing.

* * *

He did not remember why he had five bucks stuffed in a crumpled wad down his sweat-damp pocket, but he knew he had a massive headache. Either he was hungover, or he was coming down with something. Either way, nature was calling.

Grumbling, cursing and grinding his teeth, Cloud clambered to his feet and off the pile of old newspaper he had apparently passed out on - he sure as hell didn't recall falling asleep so far from the bridge he usually called home. With a lethargic shuffly, he made his way toward a reasonably empty wall. The whole place reeked already, and he hated the world for it. Then he unzipped his pants.

He was halfway through when he felt a pair of eyes on his back. He turned his head and glared in offense.

What looked to be a janitor was standing at the entrance to the alley, watching him - or, more specifically - staring with strange focus at his exposed penis and what it was doing.

He had no mood to put up with this at all.

"Oi!" He shouted at the janitor. "You like what you see? Cos' now you owe me dinner, asshole!"

His spectator lingered for a moment longer, though with less openness after being yelled at. Then he stepped to the left and slipped away.

 _Yeah, I thought so,_ Cloud growled in his head. He returned his attention to what he was doing, silently hoping to be done with it quickly - the cold autumn air was doing him no favors.

He was about to zip back up when he felt a tap at his shoulder. He turned again.

The janitor held out a hot dog to him.

He stared down at it, then up at the man. Then back down at offering.

"... Shit," Cloud finally uttered intelligently. "You actually took me seriously?"

"... Yes?" the other replied, sounding a little less certain of himself.

He stared down at the hot dog again - it was steaming just a little, a sign that it was fresh from the vendor. It was a typical orange frank in a store-bought bun, covered in generous layers of ketchup, mustard and relish.

"Thanks, I guess," he finally told the man. Then he noticed the other hot dog he was carrying and nodded at it. "What's with the other one?"

It was completely bare of any dressing, just a cheap stick of meat in a cheap bun. The janitor looked at it as well, then shifted his weight.

"I got this in case you like yours...without stuff on it," he admitted slowly.

"What, like naked?"

The man's involuntary snort echoed through the alleyway.

* * *

"It still works, too. Watch." And then Cloud leaned around her and looked straight at Leon, who was trying not to look at either of them. "Hey Leon."

The brunett did not deign to respond.

"Naked. Nekkid. Butt. Na-a-a-a-ak-e-e-e-e-e-ed."

The corners of Leon's lips shot up instantly in a helpless grin. And he giggled like a kid.

Satisfied, Cloud grinned and leaned back again. "So, anyway..."

* * *

He continued to stand there with his zipper between his thumb and forefinger, staring at the strange brunet carrying a hot dog in each hand. The situation had gotten weird and very awkward just like that.

Because this tall, dark weirdo was nothing like the usual horny perverts who did their thinking with their dicks. They had been sleazier, full of pick up lines along the cheesy idiocy of "suck for a buck". Some of them had been more paranoid in their business wear, hurriedly showing a fat swearty wad of money and urgently hissing out what they wanted in exchange for it.

This one with his wieners looked like a clueless virgin.

And then the weird virgin cleared his throat. "...um... Which one do you want?"

"Both," Cloud answered immediately. He was too hungry to truly care. "The lesser one for the preview, the better one will get you a better show."

There was a slightly puzzled look to the man as he slowly answered: "... Okay."

And then he stuck his hand out to offer the naked dog inches from Cloud's lips.

"What are you doing?"

"Your hands are dirty."

"Shit, Sherlock. What, you thought I was going to piss all over my hands for chuckles?"

"But they held it," the man insisted matter-of-factly. "They're dirty."

Something about the way he said it - not teasing, not accusing, not judging; just stating what it was - made him suddenly more aware of himself. His cheeks burned as he remembered he was a homeless man with only five dollars to his name, his only clothes on his back and nowhere to even take a leak in private. Or even just a remote sliver of warmth.

"Fuck this," he grumbled. He finally zipped back up and leaned away from the offering. "Keep your dinner. It's too damned cold to take my pants off here anyway."

"... It's warmer where I live."

Cloud looked up, unsure if he was upset, offended or incredulous. This unbelievable weirdo smiled back with renewed confidence and started retreating from the alley.

"Come on," he urged. "It's this way."

Clearly this idiot was touched in the head, or something. Cloud didn't quite know, though, what had possessed him to follow that idiot out of the alley and up the street as he beamed with pride and held two sausages like Olympic torches.

Maybe, after all, they were both idiots.

* * *

It came as very little surprise to him that the man lived in a basement. He juggled the hot dogs for a moment to get his key from a large goofy-looking keeper off his belt. Then he suddenly paused and looked straight at Cloud.

"My name is Leon."

Cloud blinked. "What?"

"Aerith says I can't let people I don't know into the apartments," Leon explained seriously. "What's your name?"

"... Cloud?"

"Okay, you can come in now."

And then he swung the door open and stepped aside. Lost in the bizzarreness of the situation, Cloud strolled on in.

It was a small living space, with the only seperate rooms being the bathroom and a bedroom. What passed for a makeshift kitchen was a portable stove in the corner. There was neither a television nor a radio, but scattered in some sort of organized chaos over half of the space was stacks of paper, pots of paint, and assorted brushes swimming in plastic tubs of murky water.

"You can wash in there," Leon pointed out the bathroom. "And there is a washing machine across the hallway, if you want to clean your clothers too."

 _Beggars can't be choosers_ , Cloud reminded himself, and took up the offer readily. The bathroom was closed with a sliding door with a lock that did not latch properly, but Leon had a trustworthy sort of air about him that assured the blond he would not be peeking in.

"Could I borrow some clothes while I wash mine?"

"Okay."

Cloud reappeared twenty minutes later, fresh for the first time in weeks. The chocobo print shirt he wore was a bit too big, but at least it was dry and warm. The cargo pants at least fitted about his waist without the aid of a belt, and he rolled up the pant legs so as to not trip over them.

And sitting on the coffee table were the two hot dogs on a clean plate. Leon stood in front of his small fridge, brows narrowed in serious debate over a can of soda and a carton of milk.

"I'll take the soda," Cloud answered for him.

Ten seconds later, he sat munching on his dinner with an opened can in his hand. Leon sat in a corner with his papers, watching without staring this time. He looked for the world like he was alone with a distant uncle he met very rarely, and didn't know what to do with himself. It was oddly charming.

Licking his lips, Cloud set the remains of his dinner back down on the plate and got up. As he crossed over to where Leon now stared at him like a deer in headlights, it was his turn to shift uncertainly.

"So how do you want to do this?"

He had expected many reactions, but he least expected the brunet to give him a puzzled tilt of the head and ask: "Do what?"

"Didn't you buy me dinner and bring me here for...you know?"

Leon didn't seem to get it. "You were saying it was too cold to take your pants off."

Cloud didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream. What alternate reality had he just stepped into here? "That's it? That's all you brought me here for?"

"... Yes?"

Shaking his head in resignation, Cloud looked up again, studying the fidgeting brunet more carefully: That air of trustworthiness he had felt earlier stayed about the man, but now he realised it wasn't so much a man of honor giving off that vibe. It was more like a kid who didn't quite know what he was doing in a world he didn't quite understand. He was so timid...clueless... _innocent_.

 _He really is a virgin, isn't he?_

There was no answer to his own question, and Cloud felt confidence slide back into him as he took the situation for what it was. This might prove to be easier than he had thought.

"So..." he drawled. His hand found the zipper of the borrowed pants. "It _is_ warm enough to take these off now, you know."

Leon looked up with interest. Curious, but not intent. Like he had no idea what he was supposed to expect.

"What you saw me doing in the alley," the blond prompted slowly, the zipper grinding slower still. "I bet you'd like to see more."

"Can I?" the quiet question asked, equally curious with no hint of malice.

"Buddy," Cloud crooned, sliding the pants off to reveal his lack of underwear, "Let me show you what a hotdog with the works is worth..."

* * *

"... And that was when Aerith walked in on me with my pants down and my dick in her best friend's face, and proceeded to curse my soul for all eternity."

Tifa's eyes brightened with amusement. "No...!"

"Aerith does not curse," Leon protested indignantly. Cloud huffed.

"Fine, fine, she took my soul over her knee and gave it a good spanking it will remember for all eternity. Is that better?"

Leon grudgingly accepted this with a nod. Then something else caught his attention, and he sat straighter stil. He looked over at Cloud with a squirm of urgency, and the blond smiled.

"Go on, then. Find a good one."

Immediately the brunet rose to his feet and jogged across the street to where the crowds were just leaving, some headed out and others headed home for dinner.

"Where's he off to?" Tifa asked curiously.

"You'll see," Cloud answered ambiguously. Then, with a tired sigh, he admitted, "To be honest, the next part is always easier to say when he isn't here to hear it."

"Why's that?"

"You'll see..."

* * *

A good hour was the time it took for Aerith to give Cloud a stern talking to for taking advantage of someone else. Another was spent, after confused sputterings and Leon's guilty confessions, finally and at length in explanation of who Leon was.

Leon had not always been like this. When they were children, Aerith remembered him as the smartest kid in town, with sharp eyes that saw everything and a sharper wit that got him into plenty of trouble. He had a talent for art, but his father hoped he would one day follow in his footsteps and find his calling in the army.

And then there was some kind of accident. He was seven.

Aerith as a little girl had cried terribly when her mother told her her childhood friend had been badly hurt and would never fully recover, that he would need help for the rest of his life. She had waited nervously for him to come home, not knowing how she could be of any help. And then she took his hand and never cried again. They grew up together and she never let him go. In fact, the building and its rental apartments belonged to her family - Leon was able to stay in the basement as the custodian.

He had learned from their uncle how to repair, to plumb and to clean. It was a simple job that gave him something to do and kept him out of the way (some of the tenants weren't very friendly or considerate). In his spare time, he painted. His subject changed on a whim, and he failed more times than he succeeded. But he never gave up. Not once. Whatever damage the accident had done to take away his future, it had not taken his stubborn determination to put one foot in front of the other.

The whole time she explained this to him, Leon had quietly sat in his corner scrawling messily with a crusty black brush over a thick cardboard sheet. His eyes were near squinting in absolute concentration. Every so often, he looked up quickly at Cloud, then pointedly down at his waist level, and then went back to wrestling with the brush.

At last, as Aerith concluded her speech with _"And if you ever hurt him or take his innocence in any way, so help me I will break you to pieces with one fingernail."_ , Leon stood up and walked over to them. He held out the painting that was still heavy and wet.

It looked like something from a college art class for extra credit, acryllic strokes roughly forcing their way in an awkward dance of all left feet. There were obvious tears in the paper where the hard brush scratched too deep, and others were blobs off indiscernible pauses held too long.

But in their whole - the big picture that they chaotically wove into - were a pair of hands, rough and calloused and gripping with a tight fierceness. They were hands that had fought hard, suffered much, and forced to release. And still their grip was strong, with something worth holding onto.

They were _his_ hands.

Leon had been watching his expression, and frowned at the silent stunned face gawking at the drawing. He shuffled uncomfortably. "Is it bad?"

"What? No! It isn't... It is... That is..." He couldn't find the words. And then Cloud asked earnestly: "Can I have it?"

Leon eyed him warily, checking for signs of patronising. When he found none, he slowly nodded and held the paper out to Cloud again.

Something in that simple little exchange had changed Aerith's mind, and she left for the night with acceptance of the current situation.

Cloud lay on the spare futon that night staring at the ceiling and listening to Leon's soft snores, wondering what had transpired and what he was doing there. What, he wondered, was he getting himself into.

* * *

"He didn't kick me out the next morning. Or the next. Or the next. I guess it never occured to him he could do that, and it sure as hell did not occur to me to tell him that. So that's how we live together now."

It was at that point that Leon came back, his fingers pushing something around in a curved palm. When he reached them, he held out his prizes:

Three pristine aluminium can tabs, fully intact, shone up at them. As Tifa stared at them in blatant puzzlement, Cloud smiled and took all three. Leon grinned and walked off again, this time picking around the streets for whatever treasures only he could see.

"He isn't stupid," Cloud told her softly. "He just sees a different world. Somewhere in that world, people throw away precious things that shine and sparkle when you give them the chance. He sees that shine. He saw it in me... Maybe that's why I never left."

"Wow..."

"Well, and the free room and board. Hey Leon," he called again to the brunet squatting in the gutter. "Why don't you find something special for Tifa?"

He nodded distractedly, his fingers still rooting around in the concrete. Cloud got up and walked off with a mumbled excuse that he needed a smoke break (and Aerith forbid he do so near Leon).

Tifa got up as well, and slowly came up alongside the busy young man looting the gutter. She squatted next to him, watching him pick up a single coat button and brush the dirt from it.

"Leon?" she asked, and he looked up at her with his soft gray eyes. "I want to ask you something."

He nodded and went back to fiddling.

"Do you remember how you met Cloud?" she asked him. "Do you remember why you took him home?"

Perhaps she was curious, what he might say. Perhaps there had been a ring of truth to Cloud's words about this strange young man who kept his innocence against his will, seeing everything in a different tint of color.

Perhaps she wanted to see it too.

Leon fiddled with the button a little longer, and then he slowly started to speak:

"Aerith says I have to fix things. I fix things so people are happy, and she is happy. I like to fix things," he rambled at first. And then, "I saw Cloud. He was cold and hungry and he was alone. He had no home and he had no one. That was not right. So I fixed it."

Then, as he lifted his head, there was an otherworldly gleam in those eyes - eyes that beheld an intelligence irrational.

"He fixed me, too."

He said nothing else. Instead he gave her the button - it was a simple clear plastic thing with the traditional four holes at its center, yet at that moment gleamed silver in the street light.

Cloud came back, the cigarette dropping into the waste bin. Leon got up and went to join him. With a mild wave, Cloud led the other back home.

Tifa watched their departing figures, one taller than the other. One younger than the other in so many ways. They were leaning just slightly, towards each other.

Between them were soft grays brimming of hope, hard brittle blues frosted from a painful past.

Together...they shone.

* * *

 _Cloud has a box full of can tabs, each one shiny and silver and fully intact. He has another full of coat buttons, some metal and some plastic, all clean and polished until they catch the light and sparkle like gems. He has a large ring, slotted full of keys that no longer have a lock to open, secrets that will stay hidden away and precious._

 _Under them sits a paper smudged in black acryllic, rough and torn and forced together in a weird dance of too many left feet._

 _Except this one is laminated, with the effort to make sure it lasts. Cloud keeps it safe, keeps it clean, and he takes it out every so often when he needs a little reminder to get himself through another day._

 _It, too, shines._

* * *

A/N: Still writing with my phone, but I'm looking into getting a bluetooth keyboard to make it all easier. Still trying regardless, still going strong!

Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

_Prompt: "Sir Leon competes in a tournament with jousting and melee and stuff, in order to win the favor of Prince Cloud."_

* * *

On Sunday evening, Aerith brings her family by to visit Leon. Her husband, Zack, is a tall dashing fellow with a charismatic air about him and the grin of a ladykiller; but here, by Aerith's side, he is as harmless as a puppy dog (and equally as eager to please). Their little son, Riku, has silver hair cut short, his eyes a lovely sea-green and a sweet smile of his own he had to have learnt from his Daddy.

Leon is immediately happy to see the five-year-old boy, as is Riku to see the tall man twenty years older. Aerith tells Cloud that before he came along, they were perhaps each other's only friends since the day they adopted the child as a toddler. Perhaps it is because they are mentally on the same level; it's the logical explanation - yet sometimes they wonder if it is because little Riku is still too young to know any better.

Leon generously offers Rain to share, and Zack has brought a metal lunchbox fiilled with Riku's favorite toys: two little knight chesspieces, one black and one off-white; a soft green dragon sock puppet with googly eyes and floppy horns and a ridiculously long tongue; a small plush Mickey Mouse wearing a home-made denim jacket alongside his trademarrk red shorts and large shoes.

At Riku's insistence, they sit to play his new favorite game (Leon poorly hides his relief to put Rain away safely). He begs and bugs his Daddy to set it up for them - Cloud soon finds out what he means.

Grabbing the black chesspiece, Riku declares proudly that he is a knight, Aerith is a Princess, Mickey Mouse is the King, and Zack is the narrator. It is all a little too familiar and complex to have been hatched from a five-year-old's imagination.

"... You're a D&D player, aren't you?" Cloud asks Zack quietly. The man grins, twiddles his thumbs, and admits to nothing.

* * *

 _Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful rode into the Kingdom on a day of bright sunlight and few clouds. His armor shone like polished obsidian, and in his scabbard was the greatest sword forged by the stars - her name was Way to the Dawn. Beneath his saddle marched Fenrir, the fastest horse in the land. Sir Riku rode his mighty steed forth to where the Great King Mickey awaited him._

" _Sire," he called up to the stands. "I, Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful, greet your Majesty of the great Kingdom of Disney castle, may it reign forever."_

" _Well met, Sir Knight," said King Mickey with a spread of his arms to either side. "You have come today with a specific request in mind, and I shall fulfill it. Stand, sir, and allow me to give you The Nigh Impossible Task-"_

" _Hold, Sire," Sir Riku called out again. "For I do not ride alone this day..."_

* * *

"Here, Leon!" And the battered off-white horse plops ceremoniously into Leon's rough hands. "You be the other knight!"

Obliging as ever, Leon carefully holds the horse upright. "Okay."

"What about Cloud, honey?" Aerith asks. "Shouldn't he get to play, too?"

The little boy considers this long and hard, and then agrees. "He can be a Princess, like Mommy."

"Boys can't be Princesses," Leon points out on the perturbed blond's behalf. Riku seems to see his point and nods.

"Okay, he can be a Prince, then. But he's not a knight, so he can't ride with us."

Cloud accepts this with an amiable shrug. Still holding the plush Mouse, Zack rolls with it without blinking.

* * *

 _From behind Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful plodded up another horse. It was gray and weathered, and atop its saddle rode a man elder, with armor that had seen war but shone with attentive care. His name was Sir Leon the Kind and Gentle, and although he did not share in Sir Riku's notorierty as a skilled warrior, he was known among the gentle and the peasants alike for his many good deeds._

 _As Sir Riku and Sir Leon stood their mounts side by side, they looked up into the stands together. Seated on either side of King Mickey were Princess Aerith and Prince Cloud. Eyes met, glances were exchanged. Both knights had their eye on a prize._

" _Stand, Sir Knights," King Mickey adressed them both. "And prepare your hearts, for the Nigh Impossible Task I shall now give you. Are you ready?"_

" _I am," said Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful._

" _I am," said Sir Leon the Kind and Gentle._

" _You must journey south," said King Mickey with a grand sweep of his hand. "And seek the mightiest beast of the land. Bring back from it a single tooth as proof of your courage - I shall entertain nothing else. Be warned, good knights, that the journey itself is fraught with perils untold. The first man back may choose whom to present his prize to."_

 _Fire blazed in their eyes at such a promise. Riling their steeds, the knights took off at full gallop toward their awaiting foe..._

* * *

"Well run along, you two! You can't find the perils untold if you don't ride out towards it!"

The thrilled little boy immediately launches himself onto Leon's shoulders and taps at his head with the black horse. "Onward, Sir Leon!"

"Okay." And Leon gets to his feet and starts a small circuit around the apartment. Well, almost.

"Look out, Leon! The floor is lava!"

"Okay!"

"Be careful, you two!" Aerith calls out as Leon climbs what little furniture he has to avoid the imaginary lava. Eventually, with his companion's guidance, the two find a patch of safe ground and keep on going. They still remember to stop once for a juice break and some crackers, before riding onward on their perilous journey through Leon's home.

At last, reaching their destination, Leon sits cross-legged on the floor again as Riku slides off his back to sit next to Zack. They are a little red and out of breath from their excursion, but excitement gleams in their eyes for the story to continue.

* * *

 _The two knights rode side by side toward their mark. Rivals they may have been, but they were friends first - friends did not leave one another to perish. So they helped one another, guided one another, until at last they stood together at the mouth of the cave._

 _And there, within, was the beast they had come so far to find - the most dreaded creature of the land, feared by all and conquered by none. Today was the day they would truly test their mettle._

 _From within the cave there was a low thunder booming - the growl of the monster. Then steps shuddered the ground, rocks trembling as those heavy feet moved a giant form forth. Its shadow was so great that the cave itself was black as night. Then it emerged at last, a form so vast it blotted out the sun._

 _It was a dragon, scales of deep emerald green and eyes of fiery red. Its forked tongue flicked out, as though it could taste their fear, and then it parted jaws of sharp white teeth in a terrible roar of fury. Its massive talons were like daggers as they found their first target and swung like a massive mace..._

* * *

"Rarr!" Zack declares, waving the googly-eyed sock puppet around for dramatic effect. "I'm an evil dragon and my weakness is pain! Raaaarrrrr!"

Riku giggles happily, the dragon lolling its tongue at his black horse. Zack beams - proud of his own acting - and continues with flourish:

"Draw your sword, Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful! For the dragon will surely fight you, and only by its defeat will you be able to get its tooth, and-"

"DIE, DRAGON, DIE!" the little boy shrieks and launches his horse-laden fist at the puppet.

"AAAAAAIEEEE! No, please! I'm allergic to dying!" the puppet squeaks in dismay at the repeated hard thwacks to Zack's poor fingers under cotton. "... Seriously, kiddo, _ow_...!"

* * *

 _The battle was legendary, between Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful and the terrible beast that was the dragon. It burned him with its flaming breath, and his sword tore rivers of blood through its hard scales of green._

 _The dragon spat hatefully at its tiny adversary, but Sir Riku had only one objective and that was not one born of fear or hate._

 _And so, with flair, he lopped off a single tooth from the creature's bared jaws. With a final, decisive strike, he sent the beast crashing to the ground in an explosion of dirt, mud and grass. It groaned and lay there, a threat no more._

 _The Task was all but done._

* * *

"Ow! OW! Enough!" squawks the puppet. "You win! Take my tooth and leave me be!"

Seizing his assault on the thoroughly battered sock, Riku takes a small white button from his father with a whoop of delight. Grinning from ear to ear, he turns and looks up at Leon. Zack groans and flexes his sore fingers.

"Okay, Sir Leon, your turn to beat up the dragon."

"... I don't want to," Leon protests softly.

"... Er, you kind of have to," Zack points out. "Don't you want to get his tooth?"

"But he's hurt already."

"It's okay, Leon," Riku tries to reassure his friend. "You don't have to hurt him. You can just hit him once on the head - it's the same thing."

"I don't want to hurt him," Leon insists. "He's my friend."

Riku looks back at his father, wide-eyed and expectant. Zack shrugs.

"Sure, I guess we can work with that..."

* * *

 _Sir Leon the Kind and Gentle came up to the dragon as well. It looked at him and awaited its fate, but the gentle knight did not unsheathe his sword. Instead, he placed his hands on the dragon and soothed its pains._

 _Sir Leon's kind heart could not bear to harm the beast that had done him no wrong, nor evil to any of the peasants - it was merely a fright, a monster in sight but not in deed. He felt pity for its plight and chose to spare it any further undeserved grief._

 _Touched by the knight's compassion, the dragon accepted his offer of friendship and readily gave him one of its remaining teeth - most had been knocked loose in its earlier fight, anyway._

 _Sir Riku, too, accepted his friend's methods toward their common goal. Each had their prize, and now the race was on toward the finish line._

* * *

"Because dinner's in about twenty minutes and I don't want us to be late, let's hurry this along. You two need to get back to the kingdom with your prizes! What do you do?"

Each knight now has a little white button. Riku looks at Leon. Leon looks at Riku. Riku picks up his horse.

"My horse runs back to the kingdom and he is the fastest horse in the land so he gets there before Leon's horse!" the child gushes out in a single breath. No one can really fault that logic.

"How about you, Sir Leon?"

Leon thinks about his options carefully, and then he asks: "Can the dragon help me?"

"Yes, he can!" Zack declares despite his little boy's upset cry.

"No fair!"

"Ah, but it is very fair," the narrator explains sagely. "You see, Sir Leon and the dragon are friends, so of course the dragon will help him. And flying is faster than running, so that means Sir Leon gets to the kingdom first.

"And that, son," Zack carries on firmly, "is why we should always act first with kindness instead of violence. Hold your hand out to shake instead of making a fist to hit, and you'll have more fun with the new friend you get in turn."

Riku pouts grumpily, but slowly nods his understanding at the unexpected lesson in morals. Zack winks at his wife, and Aerith merely waggles a finger at him knowingly. They make quite the team, Cloud reckons.

"Right! So Sir Leon gets there first..."

* * *

 _It was sunset as the two knights made their return to the kingdom. Upon the back of his friend the dragon, Sir Leon reached the edge of the kingdom first, and rode the rest of the way back upon his horse (after all, people were still scared of the dragon and it wasn't nice to scare them even more). While flying was much faster than horseback, Sir Riku's horse was nevertheless the fastest horse in the land, and it crossed the great distance with three times the speed of any other horse. They reached the castle at almost the same time._

 _But Sir Leon the Kind and Gentle was undoubtedly the first one back._

 _Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful yielded graciously to his friend and stepped back, allowing him to stand first before the king. King Mickey smiled proudly at them both._

" _Well, done, Sir Knights," he declared. "As the first man back, Sir Leon, please give me the tooth that I may give you a token. Choose whom you will present this token to."_

 _Sir Leon exchanged the brilliant white fang for a ribbon of the softest silk. He looked up once more into the stands, his eyes searching._

 _And then he found the pair he had landed on earlier that day, and announced his decision:_

* * *

"I want to give it to Cloud."

Cloud blinks. The others are momentarily silent.

"But Leon," Riku protests, "you're supposed to give it to the Princess."

"I want to give it to Cloud," Leon repeats, still staring straight at the blond with a fistful of pink ribbon. Cloud ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Can he do that, Daddy?" Riku asks. Zack scratches at his own neck before shrugging.

"I guess he can. So, how about you, Sir Riku?"

"I want to give my ribbon to Princess Mommy!" the little boy declares immediately, bouncing up and down in excitement - the confusion is promptly forgotten as he holds out his own pink ribbon to Aerith expectantly.

"Thank you, Sir Riku," she coos at him graciously, planting a kiss on his head. "I shall treasure it always."

"I love you, Mommy," Riku giggles back.

* * *

" _Fair Princess Aerith, do you accept my token?" asked Sir Riku the Strong, Brave and Powerful. With a tip of her head, the princess smiled and answered him:_

" _I do."_

 _He came forth, holding out the silk ribbon that was his token. She took it from him with her words of blessing:_

" _You who are Strong of soul, Brave of heart, and Powerful in deeds - I thank you for your offering. May you find greater Strength in my faith, deeper courage in my love, and unwavering power in my hope for you, that you may grow and prosper into a far greater person than you once strove to be... And that you may find in your heart the true path to your destiny. Rise, Sir Riku, my knight, and stand always within my heart."_

* * *

It is right at the moment that Zack's watch starts beeping. He looks down and grins.

"Welp! It sounds like the meatloaf is done! I don't know about you two, but I'm as hungry as a big evil dragon!" Swooping the boy up onto his own shoulders, Zack calls out, "Come, my fellow Knight of the Dining Table, our dinner awaits!"

"Yeah!" Riku cheers happily. Below their celebration, Cloud helps Aerith sweep up both knights, the sock puppet and Mickey Mouse back into the lunchbox. She thanks him, gives Leon a light peck on the cheek, and they see themselves out with promises from the little boy to see them again next week.

And then Cloud looks down to find Leon staring uncertainly at the pink ribbon still wrapped in his fist. There is something in the man's lost expression that finally, unreasonably, causes the blond to clear his throat loudly.

"... So," he addresses the other when Leon looks up at him, "you giving that to me yet, or what?"

He doesn't know why he decided to do that, but Leon's happy smile is worth a million bucks. The ribbon exchanges hands in an instant.

* * *

 _There was no great announcement as Sir Leon the Kind and Gentle approached Prince Cloud at the stands. There was no loud declaration as his gloved hand reached out, in it sitting one perfect silk ribbon._

" _Prince Cloud, great warrior and proud leader," Sir Leon addressed him softly, filled with respect and reverence. "Will you accept my token?"_

 _The Prince stood tall, his decorated sword at his side and his crown heavy on his head. He looked upon the offering with eyes that saw a thousand battlefields, and his smile was weary but deeply glad._

 _His hand reached out and accepted the ribbon._

" _Yours is a heart of gold, Sir Leon," he told the knight. "Your kindness is its own reward, and these gentle hands will always find another in times of need. In you I find a kindred spirit, who longs for a longstanding peace among beast and men, where we need no longer draw blood to prove our worth, nor sacrifice one to save the masses. I accept your token, and with it your friendship, your kinship, your camraderie...your love. May you stand at my side, always. Never let me forget what you stand for, Kind and Gentle one._

" _Never let me go."_

* * *

Sometimes, Cloud forgets to wear his button-up, when he goes out with Leon to sit at their usual bench every evening.

In those days, there is a long pink ribbon tied around his exposed bicep, proud and bright as a banner. In those days, Cloud finds it a sufficient replacement.

It is just as warm.

* * *

A/N: I briefly considered placing the prompt at the bottom instead of at the top of the chapter, but then again - why knock it? For those looking for the meme I've been lurking around in, Google "Strifehart Kink Meme Dreamwidth" (which, trust me, is way faster than me trying to txt a url in here). I actually have a list of potential prompts I plan to try for this series, but I welcome any you would like to send my way, either in your review or a new prompt that others can try out as well. Go forth and have fun, my friends!


	4. Chapter 4

It is to the sound of glass shattering that Cloud's eyes snap wide open. He sits up abruptly when he hears a familiar voice softly trying to pacify his way out of something. It takes but a bare few minutes (too many minutes) to grab a proper pair of pants and a decent enough shirt before hurrying to open the door.

" _What do you mean it's not your fuckin' fault!_ " an alcohol-slurred voice belts out immediately into his still sensitive ears. " _Keeping the fuckin' elevator working is your fuckin' JOB!_ "

"But I did fix it!" Leon is protesting. "It was working, but you pushed the emergency stop button so it's not moving now."

" _Don't you fuck with me!_ " the other man spits furiously in his face, finger up and jabbing offensively into Leon's shoulder. The bigger and broader of the two, Leon only flinches back a little. " _You calling this MY fault, retard?_ "

"You were still pushing the button when I found you-" No more is said as a fist wraps tightly (too aggressively) into navy blue fabric. Cloud sees a flash of red before his head clears again. He steps out of the apartment.

"Hey!" He barks. The drunk turns his attention to him. "You're drunk, asshole. Go home."

"And who the fuck're you?" the other demands in a growl.

"You _know_ who I am, Axel," Cloud growls back. "I live here – with _him_ – so take your hands off him before you do something you'd _really_ regret."

There is a moment of tense, angry silence. Then, slowly, that fist gloved in black leather loosens its grip on Leon's overalls.

"… Oh yeah, I remember now. You're the deadbeat hobo he picked up." And then the man with his fire-red hair turns back to the brunet he had been shouting at. "Finally found a wet nurse you could hold onto, eh?"

"Leave him alone, Axel."

"Bet he tastes real good when payday comes around-"

And then he stops talking as Cloud grabs his shoulder and shoves him across the hallway. Axel stumbles, recovers, and finds himself suddenly the one with a fist in his shirt and another raised and aimed between his eyes.

"I told you to back off, you drunk piece of shit," Cloud hisses.

"Cloud, _no_."

The fist stops short as Leon's hand closes around its wrist. Without another word, Leon tugs until Cloud gives in and drops both hands by his sides. For a rare moment, Leon's eyes burn with intensity as he looks from one angry man to the other.

"No fighting in the building," he warns them both. "Aerith's rules."

Reluctantly Axel grumbles something about not wanting to climb fifteen flights of stairs and stumbles back out the door and down the street. Cloud has the sense to feel a little chastised before noticing that his wrist is smeared with blood. An emptied beer bottle is a scattering of jagged shards across the carpet, and Leon has fingers applying pressure to his palm.

"I'm okay," he mumbles quickly at the other's worried look.

"I don't believe you," and Cloud puts a gentle hand to his shoulder and guides him back into their shared home. "Let's clean it up, at least."

"I'll get a broom-"

Cloud sighs and keeps Leon from turning back to the glass. "Not the floor, Lee. Aerith won't want you getting _more_ blood all over the place, right?"

"Don't tell her?" Leon asks quietly. It takes effort for Cloud to not look at those scared, pleading eyes and cave in to anything the other desires.

"… we'll see," he compromises.

* * *

It is to the collective relief of both that Leon's cut was superficial and free of glass, and while a bit of a bleeder probably did not need stitches after all. They don't talk about what happened, and Cloud already knows by heart all their previous arguments about these damned situations (history repeating itself for shits and giggles).

Axel isn't really a bad guy (he's actually one of the nicer tenants in general), Leon has told him repeatedly, but he just gets so angry when he's drunk ( _only_ when he's drunk), and when he sobers up and remembers what he did he's so apologetic and falling all over the place desperate to atone that you can't help but forgive him just to make him stop. But he still drinks, and Leon still forgives him for all the bruises and mean words because at the end of all things, Axel can't properly hold his liquor and Leon can't properly hold a grudge.

So instead Leon puts his gloves on (if only he had done that earlier), and soon enough he is busying himself with getting the hallway swept clean and the elevator working again. Cloud is still too wired from the earlier conflict to stay in the apartment where he knows he would have spent that entire time juggling his anger and his worry (and the guilt, so much guilt, for acting like a thug when he promised himself he could be a protector instead).

So instead he goes out again, cigarette smoke filling the cold crisp air about him; in its sharp acrid tang he finds himself thinking about his life – his past, his present…

Is there a future? Does he want one yet?

Has he finally earned the right to it?

Leon emerges from the building and sits next to him, his gaze fixated upon the stars above them. He fidgets. Cloud knows why that is.

"Go back to bed, Lee," he tells him. "It's too damn early and you'll need to get up again for work later."

"But you're out here," Leon points out.

"I just can't sleep, that's all. I'll go in when I get tired, so just go on ahead."

But he doesn't. Leon stays there, still fidgeting, and Cloud goes back to smoking (damned if he cares about Aerith finding out, he _needs_ this right now).

"… I'm sorry."

Cloud sighs wearily, sending another cloud of smoke floating into the darkness. "Come on, don't do that. Do you even know what you're sorry for?"

"I know you wanted me to punch Axel… and maybe I should have. And… I didn't help you when you wanted to punch him either," Leon struggles to explain himself, "I… I wasn't being a good friend."

"Leon-"

"I don't like hurting people," Leon stammers on, and his fingers twitch in his frustration. "I… don't like hurting anyone… but you come first, so maybe I should have."

It finally clicks in Cloud's exhausted mind (he just about kicks himself for not figuring it out sooner) and he turns to look the other in the eyes. "Damn it, Leon, I'm _not_ mad at you."

"But you're out here," Leon points out a second time.

"That's _not_ because of you!" Cloud answers angrily. "You didn't do _anything_ wrong, not one part of it. I'm not out here because I'm mad at you, I'm out here because… I'm mad at myself, okay?"

"… okay."

As Leon falls silent beside him, Cloud wonders if it's Leon who is mad at him now. But the silence drags on, and the air grows cold again as his cigarette goes out.

"… just go back inside, Leon," he tries again, quieter, and gentler.

"I don't want to leave you alone," Leon answers just as quietly.

Neither says a word more.

* * *

Eventually, no more than an hour later, Cloud still catches Leon stifling his yawns and nodding off. Despite himself, he smiles (it's impressive the other lasted this long).

"Go to bed, buddy," he coaxes. "I'll be right behind you, I promise."

"…'kay," Leon agrees sleepily (by now he's sleepy enough to agree to anything). He staggers to his feet and wobbles back into the building. Cloud watches after him, waiting until he is out of sight. Then he reaches into his pocket and digs around to pull out a zip-lock bag – except the bag is empty with but a few dusty crumbs. He's out again.

Cursing under his breath, Cloud crumples the bag in his fist before shoving it back in his pocket. He finds himself lighting a second cigarette, glaring into the darkness at how it's just not the same. Then the cigarette eventually burns itself out, and he lights another. He's still sitting there as the sun finally winks into the edge of the horizon.

He does finally find his way back to his futon, falling asleep instantly. Leon says nothing when he gets up and steps around Cloud's sleeping form, he just lets him sleep.

He does however come back a couple hours later and gently shakes him awake, and in his usual ramble announces that he is free now and could they get something to eat, because Zack and Riku have invited them for breakfast at a new place with good fruit, Aerith isn't feeling well, and Zack really isn't allowed to be alone with his son for extended periods of time without supervision.

Cloud thinks of nothing else, except that it sounds good to him.

* * *

Over warm rice balls and fresh sliced fruit Zack is his usual beaming, overly cheerful self. Cloud as usual tries his damndest to bypass his attempts at conversation and ignore the way the man looks at him. Their charges don't even notice.

As they all head out together, Riku suddenly drags Leon and consequently the rest of the group toward a convenience store and begs his father to let him get something – Zack relents all too easily. As Leon follows Riku through the aisles, Zack and Cloud hang back to stare with disinterest at several brands of water. Cloud senses the other wants to talk to him; he dreads it.

"How have you been, Cloud?" the man finally asks. Cloud sighs.

"I'm fine."

"You really think so?" The comment chafes at him, and he barely keeps himself from snapping.

"Yes," he grinds out.

"Cos' you don't look it," Zack tells him with a solemnity that is strangely foreign. "You look like you are itching to get high, sooner rather than later."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Zack sighs and puts the bottle he was cross-examining back in its place. "Cloud… can I tell you something? I used to work in law enforcement, so I _do_ know what I'm talking about. I've seen enough kids who looked just like you fall so hard and so fast that we couldn't help them in time… so as a friend I must tell you this – please don't bullshit me."

"…so what?" Cloud finally finds his voice to utter angrily. "You going to tell your wife? Maybe tell your kid to stay the hell away from me so he doesn't catch 'junkie'?"

"No, and it's insulting that you'd think so low of me," the other tells him with the firmness of a senior toward a junior. "All I'm asking is that you be careful. Seriously, be careful… and even if you ignore me and do it anyway, please – if you have any respect for us at all – don't do it in front of my son, or Leon. Don't hurt them… Can I hold you to that, at least?"

"… Yeah."

Zack nods gratefully. They leave it at that… except…

"So when did you stop being a cop? Why?"

It's Zack's turn to look uncomfortable, but he answers truthfully: "We were in the final stages of Riku's adoption. I remember getting the voice mail from Aerith, and she was so happy she was crying… and that whole time she was telling me how she couldn't wait to see me when I got home, panicking that we didn't have enough of the house baby-proofed… I was bleeding out on the ground from multiple gunshot wounds. I would've died if my buddy hadn't gotten me to the hospital himself rather than calling an ambulance."

"So you left the force because you wanted to live."

"I've had worse and come back stronger. No, it was the guys who shot me… they were barely teenagers. They were _kids_ … and seeing them with those guns in their hands broke something inside me," Zack continues. "I couldn't stop thinking about what if… that one day I'd be staring down my own son with a gun in _his_ hands. I didn't quit to live – I quit so I could be his father full-time, and if he ever needed me I could be there with no strings attached."

He pauses. He laughs. "You must think me a coward now."

"Maybe," Cloud answers, "but I also think you're a good father. And a good husband. Aerith and the kid are lucky they have you."

And when he feels Zack's eyes on him again, he sees they are brimming with gratitude… and… relief?

"Thank you, Cloud," Zack tells him in a rush of breath – how long had he been holding it for? Cloud shrugs.

"Don't ever pat me down for substances and we'll call it even." It earns a chuckle from the man.

"Fair enough."

"We're ready!" At Riku's exclamation both men turn to find him rushing back to them with Leon a few steps after. In one of Leon's hands is a large tub of ice cream; the other balances an equally large jar of pickles.

"Aerith needs these," Leon explains. Riku nods with equal certainty. Zack has at least the decency to cough and twiddle his thumbs as Cloud looks from tub to jar to tub, then back at Zack with a most incredulous expression on his face.

"We were kinda hoping to keep it a secret for a while," he finally admits sheepishly. And then, with a barely withheld eagerness, "and the doctor is about sixty percent sure it's a girl."

Cloud isn't sure if he wants to offer congratulations or sock him.


	5. Chapter 5

In the days that follow his skin burns like fire. There is itching, all over his arms up and down, under his wrists and between his fingers. Scratching brings no relief – instead it festers and boils until he can no longer tell if the pain is still coming from the outside… or within.

Leon doesn't understand why Cloud is angry and tired and jumpy all the time now, but in his own stumbling way he tries his best to help. He brings soothing drinks of cold juice packets and hot herbal teas (just like Aerith makes for him when he doesn't feel well) and comes looking for him every chance he gets to make sure he has enough to eat (and if he doesn't, he's saved him the best bits from what Aerith gave him). He leaves little offerings of shiny trinkets at the edge of the futon as though they were magic charms that could ward off any evil.

If only that were true, because as night falls and Leon can't be there (awake) for him that is when the loneliness creeps in, curls itself about him and his itching and his pain. His skin scalds like fever and his heart stings like frostbite. There is no one to offer him comfort (not without Leon's presence) and there is nothing to offer him reprieve (not with the little plastic packet in his pocket still so very empty).

He tosses and he turns and he wants so desperately to scream. He curls in a fetal position and his shoulders shake with suppressed sobs as his heart chokes from dark tendrils wrapping their malicious way around it and whispering those little things he knows as truth.

In the day he burns in fire… but in the nights he is in the very depths of Hell.

* * *

Leon, so stubborn and so loyal, has not given up. He shakes Cloud awake late in the afternoon and begs him to come outside with him so they can go for a walk, and also because one of their neighbors is hosting an a cappella performance in the park and has sent invitations throughout the building. That neighbor's name further curls Cloud's already downturned lips into a full sneer.

"I don't even _like_ Marluxia," he protests. "That man has been nothing but cruel to you, and I _know_ he spreads rumors and gossip about you when he thinks we don't hear him."

"His singing is nice," Leon tells him, as though that that alone vindicates the wrongs (and perhaps in his innocent mind it does). Cloud huffs his disdain and flops back down to curl into a ball on his futon.

He just lies there, too uncomfortable, and utterly miserable of his state of existence. And then he notices that Leon is still there, not touching him in case he just makes it worse, but close enough to be felt.

"Was there something else, Leon?" he grumbles tiredly.

"If we don't go to the park, can we still go for a walk?" Leon tries again. "Please? … We can get a beer at the store if you want…?"

There is no getting out of it. Cloud grumbles again but slowly hauls himself up to rest on his elbows. He looks up and sees those eyes brimming so eagerly with hope, and he relents with a sigh.

"… Yeah, okay." And he forces a weary smile. "Let's go walk, then."

* * *

He recognizes them even from the corner of his eye. He would know them anywhere. They know him just as well (maybe more than he knows himself), and it's an unlucky thing that they recognize him first. He can't even pretend he never saw them – he doesn't make it into the convenience store in time as a shrill whistle cuts through the air his way.

"Oi! Cloudy-Cloudy-boy!" one of them sings out. "Long time no see, yeah?"

Cloud grinds his teeth and curses them under his breath. Then he looks up and realizes Leon is looking at him intently, trying so hard to figure out what is happening. He quickly looks away, back at the men waiting for him by their parked van.

He can't even say he loathes the sight of them because seeing them now is exactly what he has been hoping for since his packet ran dry. As much as he hates them, as he fears them… he needs them.

"Wait for me inside the store, Lee," he says as lightly as he manages. "I'll be along in a minute."

"Are you sure?" Leon asks, his worry and confusion still evident.

"Yeah, yeah, they're just… friends of mine. It's fine, okay? Just… it's fine."

It isn't, but Cloud still turns away from the other man and walks briskly toward the van. From the looks on their faces, they aren't exactly _that_ happy to see him either.

"Hey, guys," he greets carefully. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," one says, "running errands, bit of shopping… visiting friends." Eyes that are cold and hard bear into Cloud with that last point, enough to send a shiver down his spine. "Speaking of…"

"… I don't have it," Cloud is forced to confess. Thumps of fists against metal follow as the men straighten and step towards him. "I'm getting it, I swear! I'll have all of it, I just- give me a little more time."

"You said that last time, too," says the first one. "We ain't running a soup kitchen, Cloudy-boy. You know the man likes you, but he doesn't like you enough that you can stiff him."

"I'm not! I won't, I just… I'll have it." They don't believe him – he wouldn't believe himself, either. But they back down, and they look him up and down in silent question as to why he had the gall to walk up to them at all. He shifts his feet. "… look, I… I also need more."

The man barks with incredulous laughter. "You are _not_ serious, boy."

"I'll be good for it, come on," Cloud pleads. He feels himself shake and shift his feet just at the thought of what he's asking them for. "And… and you know your boss said I can always try his first samples for free… you know that."

They exchange glances – one to the other – and then the first one's lips tighten before he nods and reaches in his pocket. Cloud's heart leaps in his chest.

"Fine. Here you are." And there it is – a full packet. "It doesn't have a name yet, but the man says it's a bit stronger than your usual kick. There's supposed to be about twenty doses of the stuff, too, so if you're smart you'll pace yourself. Try to make this one last, yeah?"

"Yeah," Cloud answers quickly.

"Cos' we won't be so patient if you come to us again empty-handed-"

'Yeah, yeah, okay." Cloud swipes it up and pockets it immediately. "Thanks, guys, I… I'll see you."

"With our money, Cloudy-boy," the man growls this time. " _All_ of it."

Cloud nods mutely and turns from them. He hurries away, feeling their hard eyes on his back… and then he looks up and Leon's eyes are on him too (Leon who had seen _everything_ ).

 _Shit._

"… Cloud?"

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Are you okay?"

"Come on, Leon," he tells him. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Leon had gotten him that beer after all (Cloud has never known him to break a promise), but it hadn't delayed him long enough from witnessing the details of a side the other had tried to hide away. Whether he understood what had been going on or what any of it meant, Leon isn't saying anything – his head is bowed to his chest and his boot scuffs the ground while he waits for Cloud to drink; Cloud loses his taste for it partway through and leaves the bottle on the ground.

"Listen, about earlier…" Met with more silence save for the scuffing, Cloud sighs and looks at the side of Leon's head. "Come on, Lee, talk to me."

"… about what?" Leon mutters back, looking the part of a child not wanting to get in trouble.

"We both know how much it's bothering you, what you saw," Cloud tells him. "You have to realize, well… I know those guys, okay? Nothing bad was going on. I'll probably meet them again, and… you should probably get used to that."

"I don't think you should be friends with them," Leon suddenly blurts out, fast and shaky while he has the courage to keep it going. "I don't like the way they look at you… like they want to hurt you… and like they don't care if you really get hurt anyway… I don't think they think you're their friend. And they say they are friends with everyone, but then they hit people and take their money, and… And… and," -he suddenly raises his head- "And Aerith says they're bad people that sell you things that make you sick! Aerith says no one should be friends with people like that because they are dangerous! Aerith wouldn't like this-"

"It's none of Aerith's business who the hell I make friends with, is it?" Cloud snaps angrily. The packet in his pocket burns against his already itchy skin, and the volatile mix of pain and exhaustion and dizziness fuel his anger further. He lashes out: "It's none of _your_ business, either. You don't know _shit_ about what's going on, so stop acting like you're smart all of a sudden and talk like you do, _got it_?"

Leon shrinks back, his head dropping back to his chest. He has already stopped scuffing his feet in case Cloud decides he doesn't like that too. Cloud's not sure what to expect (it's not like Leon's the type to cry over little things), but the man is confused and upset and scared… and he might just be mad enough to tattle on him anyway. A surge of panic douses his earlier rage as he struggles to make amends.

"Hey," he tries more gently. Leon tips his head slightly as a sign he is listening. "You still want to go to the park for the singing? We can do that. You let me do my thing, so I'll let you do yours… Okay?"

At first, he doesn't think that would work. But then, slowly, Leon raises his shoulders in a non-committal shrug and mumbles his answer:

"…okay."

* * *

When they reach the old gazebo in the park where the performance is scheduled, Leon still isn't talking to him. There is slight movement in the corner of Cloud's eye, and when he looks down he finds the man picking at his sleeves. It's an obvious shaky effort to not push them up and go for skin, but the fingers are moving faster and with more frantic urgency – it's only a matter of time left unattended.

"Leon, stop that."

Leon's hands jerk to a stop at once and fall obediently across his knees. He still refuses to look Cloud's way. Cloud considers long and hard what he's going to say, if only because he must do it right. It must make sense to the both of them… and he wants to mean every word of it.

"… I know you're mad at me," he says at last, "and I know you're disappointed… but I'm sorry, I can't change that. I wasn't smart enough to keep myself from making my choices, and I'm not strong enough to try and fix my mistakes. Whatever it is you thought I was… I guess you were wrong. I'm just not that guy. I don't think I _can_ be that guy… not even for you."

There is a crash. Both look up to see that one of the backup singers dropped his notes and Marluxia in his usual flourish and flair is trying to rally them in some semblance of order. Watching him is like watching a butterfly flit across a flower field, his steps like prances and his gestures like the spread of wings in flight. It is as fascinating as it is amusing.

"… I'm not mad," Leon suddenly mumbles, almost too softly to be heard by the other. He is playing with his fingers in a harmless manner now, and he has taken great interest in them. "Do you… want to know?"

"Know what, Lee?"

"What I think you are."

Cloud nods. "Okay."

"… okay…" Leon pauses to take a long, deep breath, and then he tells him: "I think you are the smartest, strongest guy I know. I think you're so smart that you can see the world in ways that I can't, and you can see how dark and ugly it can really get. I think you're smarter than everyone else because you know it shouldn't be that way, but it just is… and it breaks your heart and makes you fall… and it hurts you to see it and it hurts you to know it so much, that you just don't want to get up again. But you're strong enough to get up anyway. You're strong enough to open your eyes again, even if what you see doesn't change, even if you know it can't get better. I think you're too smart to be happy… but you're also so strong that it doesn't stop you from being alive. And I still think that now."

Cloud is at a loss for a reply, and then he loses his chance anyway because the a cappella group is finally ready to start. Leon straightens his back and his attention focuses entirely on them just as the first note hits the evening air.

They are awful. Half of them don't have their notes right, and the other half aren't so much singing as they are muttering into their notes. Only Marluxia sings like an angel, and his sweet voice carries clearly over the others as though the whole point of the performance was meant for him alone (and with each song that follows that becomes more and more apparent). Of course Leon doesn't notice that, because he listens enraptured as the pink-haired bard sings, and he claps with more enthusiasm than the rest of the audience (who from the looks on their faces are just trying to be polite and neighborly) before waiting with equal eagerness for the next song.

 _He doesn't see cracks and faults and grime. All he sees is radiance, no matter how small its shine._

".. you know what I think, buddy?" he asks him. At Leon's tilt of his head he tells him with a hint of humor: "I think you're the second biggest idiot I've had the pleasure to meet."

Leon isn't overly bothered by the jab as he asks the more pressing concern: "Who's the first?"

Cloud does not say, and in the next few seconds Leon is distracted by Marluxia's voice again and the matter is all but forgotten to him.

 _Why did an idiot like you cross paths with me?_

As Cloud watches Leon he feels a throbbing ache in his chest that holds no part in his usual torment – it is dull and cold and tinged with the dread of knowing.

 _I don't deserve you… and I'm a bigger idiot than you'll ever be because I'm going to blow it._

 _I know I will… I've done it before._

* * *

They had a quiet dinner of hotdogs and soda before returning home. It's been an exciting day all around, and Leon is asleep earlier than usual.

Cloud finds himself alone, and then he finds his fingers in his pocket.

There are twenty tubes in the packet, and each tube is designed to break open to reveal a long thin needle. It's not something he can smoke or swallow as he has accustomed himself to… but he was promised it would give him a similar effect, if not stronger.

And he needs that as much as each choked breathe he struggles with.

He considers what to do… and then he pulls his socks off and exposes his bare feet. They can't know. Not Aerith. Not Zack. Not their little boy.

Not Leon.

He is careful, but he still misses in the first few tentative pricks (blood dots and specks), but then at last he finds the vein and slowly injects the solution into it. He barely has time to yank the empty tube back out before everything washes heavily in shades of gray, then of black.

 _Everything fades away…_

* * *

Things seem to go back to normal, or as normal as they can get. Cloud isn't agitated or itching or hurting all the time anymore, and once more their days are filled with his equal measures of sarcastic sass and dry banter. He is laughing again in his sad, tired way… and at least he is able to laugh. Leon has no idea how it happened, but he knows that Cloud is feeling so much better and that's a good thing.

 _We're okay now, right? It's all okay now?_

Cloud smiles and shakes his head and steals the other man's cap. He laughs at the other's indignant face and puts the hat back on the wrong way. Just like how he always did.

 _Yes, we are, buddy. We'll always be._


End file.
